‘Fisher.’
‘Sir?’
‘I’ve been considering your proposition. There’s a string tied to it.’
‘Oh no, sir, I assure you!’
‘There is. What guarantee have I that you won’t double-cross me?’
Sam smiled, relieved.
‘You forget that I told you I was about to be married, sir. My wife won’t let me!’
Mr Ford waved his hand towards the automobile.
‘Jump in,’ he said briefly, ‘and tell him where to drive to. You’re engaged!’
CHAPTER 18
‘No manners!’ said Mrs Drassilis. ‘None whatever. I always said so.’
She spoke bitterly. She was following the automobile with an offended eye as it moved down the drive.
The car rounded the corner. Sam turned and waved a farewell. Mr and Mrs Ford, seated close together in the tonneau, did not even look round.
Mrs Drassilis sniffed disgustedly.
‘She’s a friend of Cynthia’s. Cynthia asked me to come down here with her to see you. I came, to oblige her. And now, without a word of apology, she leaves me stranded. She has no manners whatever.’
I offered no defence of the absent one. The verdict more or less squared with my own opinion.
‘Is Cynthia back in England?’ I asked, to change the subject.
‘The yacht got back yesterday. Peter, I have something of the utmost importance to speak to you about.’ She glanced at Jarvis the chauffeur, leaning back in his seat with the air, peculiar to chauffeurs in repose, of being stuffed. ‘Walk down the drive with me.’
I helped her out of the car, and we set off in silence. There was a suppressed excitement in my companion’s manner which interested me, and something furtive which brought back all my old dislike of her. I could not imagine what she could have to say to me that had brought her all these miles.
‘How -do- you come to be down here?’ she said. ‘When Cynthia told me you were here, I could hardly believe her. Why are you a master at this school? I cannot understand it!’
‘What did you want to see me about?’ I asked.
She hesitated. It was always an effort for her to be direct. Now, apparently, the effort was too great. The next moment she had rambled off on some tortuous bypath of her own, which, though it presumably led in the end to her destination, was evidently a long way round.
‘I have known you for so many years now, Peter, and I don’t know of anybody whose character I admire more. You are so generous–quixotic in fact. You are one of the few really unselfish men I have ever met. You are always thinking of other people. Whatever it cost you, I know you would not hesitate to give up anything if you felt that it was for someone else’s happiness. I do admire you so for it. One meets so few young men nowadays who consider anybody except themselves.’
She paused, either for breath or for fresh ideas, and I took advantage of the lull in the rain of bouquets to repeat my question.
‘What -did- you want to see me about?’ I asked patiently.
‘About Cynthia. She asked me to see you.’
‘Oh!’
‘You got a letter from her.’
‘Yes.’
‘Last night, when she came home, she told me about it, and showed me your answer. It was a beautiful letter, Peter. I’m sure I cried when I read it. And Cynthia did, I feel certain. Of course, to a girl of her character that letter was final. She is so loyal, dear child.’
‘I don’t understand.’
As Sam would have said, she seemed to be speaking; words appeared to be fluttering from her; but her meaning was beyond me.
‘Once she has given her promise, I am sure nothing would induce her to break it, whatever her private feelings. She is so loyal. She has such character.’
‘Would you mind being a little clearer?’ I said sharply. ‘I really don’t understand what it is you are trying to tell me. What do you mean about loyalty and character? I don’t understand.’
She was not to be hustled from her bypath. She had chosen her route, and she meant to travel by it, ignoring short-cuts.